


Alathea and The Dragon King

by AriaKCapriccio



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: AU, Alduin is a manbaby, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Betrayal, F/M, Humiliation, Loss, Transformation, send help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 19:19:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11766606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AriaKCapriccio/pseuds/AriaKCapriccio
Summary: As Alduin was thrown through time by ancient Nordic heroes, he was destined to emerge into the world of the living once more. However, the void of time left its irreversible marks on his very soul. In order to survive, he must rely upon the only soul who'd ever give a dragon mercy, a half-elven worshipper of Arkay.





	Alathea and The Dragon King

Alduin’s fate was forever changed the day he was cast into the void of time.

But he was the Creator, the Destroyer! Akatosh’s first and greatest creation! The thought that three _joorre,_ mortals could defeat him was unthinkable. Until they did, and he was henceforth banished from time, from existence itself.

All he knew from then on was nothingness.

Ripped away from the mortal plane he was destined to obliterate and conquer, sent to drift through a rip in the fabric of time, Alduin at first roared with fury, but he was helpless to fight the dark forces that pressed from all sides, threatening to swallow him whole and crush his very being to dust.

He didn't know how long he fell through this void. There was no sense of self, no feeling of his scales or mighty wings. Just his own raging thought remained, poor company for the World Eater. It was not peaceful there, nor was it violent and vile. It was a place of nothingness, a place without feeling or sensation, or even recollection of oneself. There Alduin waited, and time seemed at once a thousand millennia and a single moment.

He simply floated.

 

Once all and no time had passed, soon there grew a rift. Something changed. A shift in the cloying, tangible dark of the void. Like a light in the dark, a pinprick of something he might have called hope. It called to him, sang of freedom to destroy and ravage and rule once more.The sweet scent of Nirn and freedom were there, and he moved eagerly through the vastness to where he would wage his wrath once more, with a hundred times his former ferocity.

The rift grew and he plunged through the inky black nothing of the void into the world again. For the first time in eternity, he saw sunlight. The mortal realm glistened with it. His victory at having broken free was cut short however, for a searing pain gripped him, and burned through him wherever the void did not. He pressed forward.

The pain intensified. His very scales and bones turned to fire and acid, he screamed, something caught between a Thu’um and a dying call. An explosion ripped across the mortal plane, sending the flames loose and the land rippling in every direction.

He fell from the rift, landing in the water, and did not move again.

Alathea’s head was upon the block when the explosion came. Her world was thrown backwards, and through blurry green eyes she saw nothing but rubble and fire. All around her, panic and chaos. The ground trembled as if the earth itself was in revolt.

She rose to her feet, only to be thrown to the dirt again with each resulting tremor. Her vision swam, eyes obscured by uncut auburn locks.

“Come on! The gods won’t give us another chance,” a Stormcloak voice called. The face of the man from the cart was visible through the rising dust and smoke.

The half elf stood shakier than a newborn mule, and stumbled across Helgen’s clearing. She did not stray to his face and calls, but rather towards the far gates.

Her ears rung, and she thought she heard him call to her again, but she resolutely ignore his pleads. She cared only for freedom. The Imperials around her did not chase her. They were swarming like ants around the great crack of the ground that had opened up beneath Helgen, swallowing it whole, along with crumbling towers and burning houses.

 _I have to get away_ , was the only thought in her head, playing over and over. Her hands lit with magic, burning away the bindings around her hands, leaving only scorchmarks and chafed bruises.

She pushed against the wood door, channeling fire into it, and leapt through a self made hole into the wilds of Skyrim.

 

Alathea collapsed to her knees minutes later onto the road, catching herself with her sore white hands.

She truly had nothing, and no one. She hadn’t before her capture, and she certainly didn’t now. As night fell, she resorted to sleeping in a tree, cold, and terrified of eyes in the shadows, and wolves in the dark.

She dreamt of happier times, before Skyrim and before this terrible day.

She dreamt of her mother’s golden eyes and fingers that created lovely magic, of her Breton father’s plump hugs and creased smiles.

She dreamt of her home, the old stone walls and mazelike gardens she would wander for hours.

When she woke, she dried her eyes and smiled to recall those dreams.

 

She started walking, knowing her feet would carry her somewhere soon enough if she followed the river. Even in Skyrim, a bare and desolate place as she knew it to be, there must be towns!

It was a sunny day, almost taunting after the dark clouds of smoke and mist before. Alathea might have only had the filthy dress on her back and her magic, but it would be enough.

She came to a curve in the bank and yelped, leaping backwards. A body floated in the water, caught between the current and a fallen log.

She took cautious steps forward and grabbed it’s arm, giving it a tug. Limp.

_They must have been caught in that terrible explosion!_

She frowned, wading into the water and grabbing the corpse from under the arms, hauling the heavy mass onto the shore.

It was a man, as naked as a newborn, with long dark hair. His pale pink skin was free of any scars or markings. _That’s strange for anyone, let alone a male nord, or one killed by such a disaster._

But, she would give him the rites, as she did to all she encountered. She would honor the living and dead, as Arkay bade her.

Spotting a patch of mountain flowers near, she picked a few and laid them across the dead man’s chest. She spoke softly, “Arkay, Stendarr, Talos, Akatosh, may this man find peace in death, and may his soul-” The _definitely not dead_ body moved, and Alathea screamed. 

 

Alduin awoke to a throbbing that echoed through his whole body. _This is not right. I am free, aren’t I?_ His eyes jolted open and his relief when he saw the blue of the sky above him was immense.

He twisted onto all fours, flowers falling to the wayside, and he began crawling towards the horrified elf, before his arms gave out beneath him.

He hissed in pain _,_ but stopped. He looked at his outstretched hands, his _human_ hands, and panic bloomed across his face. A nightmare he could not have forseen even in his darkest hours, he had emerged from the void of time not as Dov, but as a man.

Crawling backward again, he twisted his head side to side, hair falling into his face. She reached out to grasp his hand, and he yanked her forward, causing her to stumble to her knees, nearly atop him.

He snarled something at her, something spoken in a guttural language that she could not make head nor tails of. He repeated, “ _Joor! Joor!”_ and “ _Dovah_!” several times.

Alathea pulled away from his surprisingly strong, yet clumsy grip.

He looked up at her, hair sliding away, and his glare was the most venomous she’d ever beheld. His eyes were rubies, flaming with anger.

She almost balked at the sight, transfixed by red.

He spoke again, slower and in man’s tongue. His voice was deep and rumbling, “What did you do to me, Mortal!?”

“I-I did nothing…” Clearing her throat, she said louder, “I’m sorry, I thought you were dead.”

He threw his arms wide, eyes lolling. “Do you not recognize who I am, even in this mortal coil? I am a god! Alduin! And you have made me _wretched_!” he spat with utter contempt.

“A-Alduin-?” she squeaked, stumbling back from him onto her rear. Of all creatures she might have met this day in Nirn, the Daedra cursed her to encounter this? This man was either truly insane or else speaking the truth, and she saw horrible truth in his eyes. “I-I swear, I did nothing! I only meant to-”

“You meant to weaken me, to defeat me?” He made a strange noise in his throat, like a dragon’s growling laugh. “You, pathetic little joor, defeat the World Eater?” He tried to stand then, but his legs failed. He slammed his fists into the dirt, kicking and screeching like a child throwing a tantrum.

She got to her feet and watched him flail about. _What is this feeling? Pity?_

Yes, it was indeed. She pitied this man, dragon, or whatever he thought himself to be. It was a sad show to say the least, and it pulled at a piece of her conscience. _Mara’s mercy, what am I doing?_

“I will help you, but you must please stop this dreadful behavior, else I can do nothing,” she pleaded.

His glare turned back on her, and he was eerily still a moment. He just stared, eyes narrowing.

“You have already _helped_ enough, mortal.”

“But I cannot leave you here!” she insisted, taking a step towards him. “It wouldn’t be right. Besides, you can hardly walk in your state.”

He muttered something awful sounding in his language under his breath. Alathea approached slowly, half expecting him to breath fire at her or pull away. He was silent, still as a rock, and he gave off a burning aura of hatred. She took his arm around her shoulders, so that he leaned entirely on her. _He is so tall!_

The Breton in her blood made her shorter than most of her kin, and this man practically towered over her, even when he could barely stand up straight.

She was painfully aware of his lack of clothes the whole time, and her cheeks burned, but she did her best to ignore as she limped onward, the dragon man leaning on her the entire time. He stumbled around like a toddler, and cursed in his language with every failure.

Alathea might have giggled if she wasn’t unsure that she might be strangled by this man at any moment.

They came upon a settlement surprisingly quickly, and Alathea stopped a fair distance away from view.

“Wait here, i’ll be right back!” she said, sliding out from under his arm. He slumped to the ground and his face contorted into a snarl.

“What are you plotting? Why are you leaving me here, joor?” he complained, even as she’d already disappeared down the road. He was even more disgusted with himself now. He was dependent on a mortal, a mortal female! _One who does not even fear me!_

 

Alathea crouched behind a fence, examining the clotheslines haphazardly strung to and fro in someone's yard. _Those will do nicely,_ she decided, zeroing in on a particular set of clothes. For a moment, she felt a twinge of guilt, but brushed it off. _It’s for a good reason, and they seem to have plenty of things to spare._

She crept through the yard, nearly tripping over a chicken, and snatched up what she needed.

When she returned, Alduin was not where she had left him.

“You took too long,” a voice behind her said. She whirled around. He was standing there, frowning down at her. _How is he standing? He could barely walk before!_

“I got you some clothes,” was all she said, blinking in surprise. She held out the bundle in her arms.

He sniffed dismissively, “I have no need of clothes, nor have I ever.”

She pressed the bundle into his arms. “It's not just for you, it’s for everyone else's sake.”

The World Eater had no concept of pants, or how to put them on. She had to help with that too, like he really was a toddler. His legs kept getting stuck, and Alathea feared he would rip them to shreds before he could get them around his ankles.

The same followed with the shirt, and he actually did rip the sleeve of it. She bit her lip and sighed, guiding his hands through.

He categorically refused to wear shoes, even upon an explanation of what a callus was. _He will learn the hard way,_ she decided.

“There’s an inn in that settlement, but I don’t think we’ll be able to afford it,” Alathea said, mostly to herself. She was bare of coin. They would have to find somewhere else to sleep, and she needed work.

She gave Alduin a sidelong glance. _He could work, he looks strong enough despite his… strangeness_

“An inn…?” he repeated.

Alathea shrugged, gesturing to a small alcove of rock shading a mossy patch just a short distance from the path. “That shall be our inn for now. At least until there a few more Septims in my pockets to spare.”

He stared at the natural dip of the earth there a moment before he realized. “A sleeping place?” He gave a snort of derision, a noise that even seemed to startle himself.

The elf wrung her hands. “I cannot do any more. We need work, and I have no money for healing potions or a proper place to lie our heads! Now come.” She reached for his hand again. He drew back from her touch. She let her hand fall slack to her side and started forward into the settlement.

 

Alduin watched a moment before slowly following after her, burning holes through the back of her neck all the while.

He couldn’t recall despising a mortal more. Not since those who twisted the words of the Dovah against him. She kept touching him, she didn’t even seem afraid of him, and she was so ignorant. None ever dared touch him, not unless they wished for their swift demise at the call of his great Thu’um.

He glanced down yet again at those hideous human hands, so soft and pitiful. He flexed the joints awkwardly. How was he supposed to _use_ these?

Alathea stopped at a doorstep and looked up at Alduin.

“I’ll see what I can do, just… be careful what you say.” Before he could offer retort, she slipped through the door. He fumbled with the knob a moment, entering after her. His nose hardly detected anything now compared to his true form, but even still, he could smell must and ageing wood. The stink permeated the entire room, and he made a face.

“I told you, no!” The man behind the counter was yelling at a young girl across from him. He looked up and a sheepish smile crossed his face. “Ah. Sorry about that. We’ve been having some store troubles lately. Still, everything’s for sale.”

Alathea smiled back tentatively, glancing between the man and the indignant woman.

“Actually, I was wondering if there was any work my companion and I might find here?”

The man shook his head, glancing from her to Alduin who loomed in the corner, examining the shelves with a frown.

“Short on Septims? I’m sorry, but Riverwood isn’t the best place to look these days.” His eyes crinkled with sympathy. “I’d recommend continuing on to Whiterun; the businesses there are always booming.”

“Lucan, what about our claw? What if-” the woman blurted, leaning on the counter with both hands.

“Camilla-” Lucan warned.

Alathea took a step back, grabbing Alduin by the sleeve and yanking him with her out the door.

“We should be going. Thank you anyway,” she called.

The instant they were out, Alduin ripped himself from her hold. He juggled something small and golden in his hands, looking at it rather than her. “If that man displeased you with his tone, why did you not simply punish him? You would run?”

Alathea’s face turned from pinched with discomfort to incredulous. “Of course not, I would never-” Her eyes flew to his hands and she snatched the small bottle away before he could stop her. “What is this?”

He merely stared, almost bored looking.

She scanned the label. “Why would we need… a Draught of the Archer? I’m sure neither of us can even shoot a bow!”

He turned his head away and grunted, “I didn’t know, I cannot read your utterly primitive lettering.” He couldn’t give an answer even if he’d wanted to. The shine of the gold glass tugged at a distinctly Dov part of himself, and he _wanted_ it.

The elf sighed. He was so hopeless, foreign and unknowing, yet he still held onto the arrogant petulance of one who believed himself beyond repercussions. She placed the bottle down by the door, turning to see the setting sun behind the mountain.

“I am not a coward,” Alathea said, cutting through the silence between them. “I would not interfere with another man’s quarrel though.” She started walking away, back to the little spot outside town where she intended to make camp.

After a few steps, she continued. “Considering who I am travelling with, I would prefer to avoid confrontation. The World Eater surely has many enemies.” _Enemies I have now betrayed,_ she thought with a grimace. _I’ve landed in something beyond myself._

Once again the joor foolishly left Alduin to his own devices while she collected firewood. That wasn’t before she admonished him for some trivial matter and said something vaguely threatening about wolves in the night.

The air was different from how he’d ever remembered it, it bit at his hide and prickled uncomfortably wherever the wind blew. He retreated further into the rocky alcove, finding small and meaningless relief. His feet however burned like _yol,_ fire.

He tried to curl up around himself and sleep his misery away, with faint hopes that this was not, in fact, what it seemed to be. If it was a trick of the gods, an illusion, then he would swoop upon the unfortunate instigator and devour them whole.

Despite his attempts, sleep would not come and he felt all the more uncomfortable for trying.

The joor returned with an armful of wood. She stood there, gaping at him, and it only worsened his foul thoughts. He wanted to stand and snap her delicate neck, to watch her burn from the power of his _yol_ . The thoughts were momentarily satisfying before prickling wind and a mortal voice brought him back.

“What in Nirn are you doing?” She asked. Alduin lay curled almost into a ball with his head tucked into his arm so that only his eyes were visible through a curtain of dark hair.

“What does it look like, mortal?” he spat, watching her sit as she began arranging the wood.

“I cannot say for certain, are you trying to drive off the cold?”

“The cold?” That gave him pause. Was that the prickling he felt? Had he sunk _that_ low? “No, I am trying to _sleep_ ,” he growled.

She stared a moment before covering her mouth with one hand, making odd muffled noises. She was _laughing_ at him!

“That’s not how humans sleep,” she explained between inane giggles. “We lie straight on our backs or sides, or even our stomachs. We don’t roll into a ball.”

He turned away from her, hugging his knees, all the while the unfamiliar feeling of cold permeated his entire body. He didn’t even have his internal fire anymore.

 

She was quiet, then came the distinct crackling of flames. Warmth surrounded them, and Alduin turned back to see the fire she’d started. He refused to look back at her, instead staring into the fire. He watched the hypnotic movements of their flicker and dance, feeling himself drift into slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments please! I love hearing what y'all have to say :)


End file.
